


driving me crazy, but i'm into it

by peachydeacon



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Boys In Love, Coming In Pants, Dom Roger Taylor (Queen), Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Omorashi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Sub John Deacon, Watersports, Wetting, gratuitously late christmas fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25545478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachydeacon/pseuds/peachydeacon
Summary: Roger takes another minute to just admire John, the way he’s squirming and panting softly. He’s so pretty like this, tightly wound but also fully trusting Roger with every cell in his body. Roger almost chides John for not being still, but he doesn’t. On another day he would say something; tell him not to move, give his hair a yank as punishment. But he doesn’t want to. Tonight he just wants to show John how much he loves him. And to see him wet himself all over their bed.♡ ♡ ♡John wets himself for Roger. Roger doesn't think he could possibly be more in love.Title from Kiwi by Harry Styles
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	driving me crazy, but i'm into it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starrydrowse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrydrowse/gifts).



> hi so this is an extremely late christmas present for my friend [andie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrydrowse) who has been incredibly patient with me and is also just lovely! (here's their [tumblr](https://starrydrowse.tumblr.com/) btw !) they also helped me edit this which i appreciate a lot, they're a wonderful editing buddy! also YES theres a trend in my titles and NO i dont wanna talk about it

As Roger watches John squirm in the middle of their queen-sized bed, clutching the sheets between his fists in an effort not to grab at his crotch, he feels almost dizzy with love for him.

They’ve been dating for eighteen months— it started pretty much the second that the band itself did— and in that time, Roger’s felt the best he ever has even on the worst of days. Sometimes he and John fight, and sometimes they’re each dealing with their own issues (which, funnily enough, seem to frequently be about one Brian May for both of them), but since he and John have started dating, there hasn’t been a single day where he goes to bed actively upset. Having John curled up to him at the end of the day always fixes everything right up.

Roger certainly has the same effect on John, but John often struggles to put it into words, so he doesn’t articulate it as much as Roger does. The blonde takes what he can get. John isn’t exactly the most subtle person, so it’s quite obvious despite the fact that he tends not to verbalize it quite as often as Roger does. One time mid-sex John had blurted that he thinks they’re soulmates, and even though it sort of meant the world to Roger, he still teases John about it six months later. 

It also doesn’t hurt that John is by far the best lay of Roger’s life, and vice versa. The first time they had kissed, John had made a small whimpering noise into Roger’s mouth and that’s when Roger knew he was in this for the long haul. Then he had seen John on his knees, looking up with him with pleading eyes, asking as politely as he could to suck Roger’s cock, and Roger decided that yeah, he’s gonna marry John Deacon.

Roger has never been very private about his kinks. He’ll tell pretty much anybody whatever they want to know about what gets him off, so John was surprised when an entire year into their relationship, Roger told him it was one of his biggest fantasies to make someone wet their pants.

It took some time for John to make his mind up about whether he was going to do this for Roger, but in the end he realized that it’s _Roger,_ he would try anything once to make him happy. Roger was _thrilled,_ and John ended up liking it far more than he expected to.

Right now, the two of them are in a situation they’ve both grown very familiar with since that first time they tried it. Roger is standing at the foot of the bed, while John is sitting on top of the duvet, completely dressed with an extremely full bladder. He looks _gorgeous,_ Roger thinks, all squirmy and cute in his yellow t-shirt and blue zip-up hoodie and his bell bottoms which are just a little too small in the waist for him now. His breaths are stuttered and shallow as they leave his parted lips. His whole face is flushed deep pink, the tips of his ears red. His eyebrows are knit together as he looks pleadingly at Roger, occasionally squeezing his eyes shut when he gets hit with the ache of it especially bad. 

“Roger, it _hurts,”_ John whimpers, and it comes out sounding pathetic even to his own ears but he just doesn’t care, it aches so bad and he loves it.

“I know, gorgeous,” Roger coos, and it _drips_ with how condescending it is. John’s head spins. He loves when Roger talks to him so sympathetically, like the situation is out of his control even though it’s _not,_ Roger could let him use the bathroom whenever he wants. 

Roger takes another minute to just admire John, the way he’s squirming and panting softly. He’s so pretty like this, tightly wound but also fully trusting Roger with every cell in his body. Roger almost chides John for not being still, but he doesn’t. On another day he would say something; tell him not to move, give his hair a yank as punishment. But he doesn’t want to. Tonight he just wants to show John how much he loves him. And to see him wet himself all over their bed.

“Why don’t you tell me how bad you have to go?” Roger phrases it like a suggestion, but they both know John would do anything Roger asked.

“It… It _aches,_ I’m so full, I really have to go,” John admits, his cheeks pink. He avoids his boyfriend’s intense gaze carefully, instead focusing on where he’s playing with his fingers in his lap. Then he lifts his head. Roger’s eyes are darker than usual, he thinks. “I think I’m gonna have an accident.”

He presses his lips together to prevent a smirk when he hears Roger’s breath catch. John knows that’s one of the phrases that drives Roger absolutely wild. The idea that it could be genuinely unintentional has always been a _thing_ for Roger. The thought that maybe John would actually not make it to the restroom in time, that he would have no choice but to pee himself right there, makes Roger hot all over.

“Are you really?” Roger says, and he sounds breathless; John’s lips quirk up for a moment before he manages to get his smirk back under control.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I feel…” He pauses to take a deep breath. Another wave of desperation hits him, and he squeezes his legs together. He shoves a hand between his thighs and gasps. “Oh fuck. I feel. Full. It feels so good, Rog, I need it…”

Roger’s breath catches again. The hand between John’s thighs is yet another thing that the blonde might’ve pointed out another time, but right now he can’t take his eyes off of it and it makes goosebumps break out on his skin. Knowing that John has to go _so bad_ that he can’t help himself from desperately grabbing at his crotch makes Roger’s head spin. “Are you gonna be good and wet yourself for me, doll?” 

This time, John’s breath is the one that hitches. “Yeah, can’t hold it,” he says, and he _means it_. He feels another wave of desperation and his hand tightens in his lap. Roger notes the movement; the way John’s fingers flex, the way he’s squirming more frantically now, the fluttering shut of his eyelids, his parted lips. Everything about him looks fucking ethereal, and Roger can’t get enough.

“You look so fucking good right now, can’t believe you’re mine,” he murmurs, more to himself than John, but the younger boy still flushes from the words.

“Roger,” he stammers. “I— I’m…”

“I know,” Roger coos. “But you can hold it for me a little longer, right? You want to be good for me, don’t you?” 

John whimpers. He wants to be good, of _course_ he wants to be good. But every time he so much as _breathes_ his bladder throbs and sends sharp pains through him and he’s trying so hard not to leak and he doesn’t think he’s going to make it much longer.

“I wanna be good,” John hesitantly agrees, but he pauses for just a beat too long. Roger picks up on the slight uncertainty in his tone, because his own voice softens.

“What’s your color, my love?” he asks softly, gently cupping John’s cheek in his hand.

“Green, I’m green,” John breathes. “Just… I don’t wanna let you down.”

Just like that, Roger’s dom facade cracks. “Hey, hey,” he coos, sitting down on the bed next to John and stroking the younger boy’s cheek with his thumb. “You could never let me down. You’re always good for me, whether you can hold it or not. It’s okay, angel. You can let go, you could never disappoint me.”

John’s face softens as he leans into Roger’s touch. “You promise?”

“I promise.” He strokes John’s hair, admiring how soft it is. “Do you wanna try to hold it, sweetheart? Or do you wanna let go now?” After a second, Roger adds, “Or we could call it off for tonight. I won’t be disappointed if that’s what you want.”

“No, I wanna hold it for you.” John beams at him.

“You’re such a good boy, you know that?” Roger praises. 

John looks away bashfully as Roger presses a kiss to the top of his head. 

Suddenly the intense pressure in his bladder comes back harder than before.

“Oh god. Roger, off the bed, off the bed,” he rambles frantically.

Roger does as requested quickly, standing up and taking a step away from the bed. Frankly, he wouldn’t really mind sitting on the bed with John, but it’s out of John’s comfort level for now, and Roger wouldn’t dream of pushing his boundaries.

“Are you gonna be able to hold it?” Roger asks him. John shakes his head rapidly, staring down at his lap and avoiding eye contact as he tries to will his bladder to not give out. Roger can tell he doesn’t have long left, maybe 5 minutes, before he won’t be able to hold it anymore and he wets himself all over their sheets.

Roger stares at John, his fists clutching the sheets, his legs crossed, his teeth worrying his bottom lip, and he suddenly feels very torn between his heart aching and his extreme urge to fuck the piss out of his boyfriend. His cock throbs at the thought of it, of John beneath him as he fucks into him _hard_ over and over until the younger boy’s bladder gives out and he wets himself all over his stomach and the sheets. But that’s a fantasy for another time.

“Roger,” John whimpers, snapping the blonde back to earth. “I leaked.”

Looking down at the front of John’s jeans, Roger can see that he had, in fact, leaked. There’s a small, slightly darker patch on the front of his jeans. It makes Roger’s breath catch in his throat.

He does his level best to balance his voice when he says, “I guess you’re really not gonna be able to hold it, hm?”

John looks up at him with the sweetest puppy eyes Roger has ever seen and whines, “No, it’s gonna happen soon…”

“I wonder how long you can last,” Roger drawls. “Five minutes? Ten?”

John looks up with him with teary eyes and shakes his head. 

Roger’s head swims. He hadn’t meant it as _will you be able to hold it for even five more minutes,_ it was meant to be _I’m sure you’ll be able to hold it for at least five minutes, but how much longer than that?_ But knowing John doesn’t think he’ll even be able to last that long is enough to make his cock throb.

“No? Not even that long?” Roger prods, his voice low. He can feel himself losing his composure, and he knows John can tell too, but the younger boy is too busy squirming to make any snarky comment about it like he would if he was just a little bit less desperate.

“No,” John whimpers. He loses control for a moment, letting go with no real intention, but it’s _so_ much harder to stop this time, and for a second he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get it back under control. He shoves a hand between his legs and rocks against it, trying desperately to not wet himself all over the bed just yet. His hand is getting wet, he can feel it and it’s _humiliating_ but it makes his stomach twist in the most wonderful way. 

Finally he manages to get it back under control, after several seconds of helplessly wetting himself, but Roger is staring at him with dark eyes and he feels small in the best way.

“You’re not doing a very good job of holding it,” Roger coos, and once again, it’s so condescending that it makes John’s head spin. John whimpers. 

“I’m trying, I promise,” John whines. His voice is uncharacteristically high, just like it always is when he isn’t going to be able to hold it much longer.

“I know you are, but look at you! It’s all over your trousers, you should be so embarrassed.” 

The blush on John’s cheeks deepens and he lets out a whimpered moan at Roger’s words. Then he leaks again. It’s starting to get on the sheets, it’s pooling under him on the sheets, and John really doesn’t think he can get it back under control—

—And just like that, he’s wetting himself. He tries desperately to get it back under control, but he just _can’t,_ not this time. It’s flowing out of him and it feels so good, he’s so relieved and humiliated and turned on all at the same time. His breath comes out in short little gasps as the sheets below him get wetter and wetter. The sound of hissing is almost deafening even though Roger is murmuring soft praises from above him. 

Roger strokes his hair and continues gently encouraging him, telling him what a good boy he is, reassuring him that he’s done so well for him. Roger is so hard that he feels a bit lightheaded. He watches John’s pants get darker, watches the sheets get darker too. It’s spreading all over the bed, and even though it’s the same way it always goes, it takes Roger’s breath away. He can’t _believe_ he gets to see John like this, vulnerable and embarrassed and helpless and it’s all for _him._ For a moment, Roger’s arousal is overwhelmed by love for his boyfriend. John is sat there in a puddle of his own piss, just for him, and Roger feels a little dizzy. _How did he get so lucky?_

“Roger,” John whines softly, and in an instant Roger is back out of his head and right there with John. _His favorite place._

“Oh, baby boy,” Roger coos. “Didn’t I tell you to hold it?”

A dry sob catches in John’s throat. He feels so fucking humiliated and yet all it does is add to the arousal pooling in his stomach. He’s hard, _so_ hard, and it happened so fast he feels dizzy at the lack of blood to his brain. Everything feels warm and wet around him and he can’t possibly get enough.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. You didn’t mean to, did you?” Roger murmurs, his voice smooth like honey by some miracle. John shivers, shakes his head. He could honestly cry right now. Maybe that would make it even better.

“Rog, please,” John sniffles. His voice is soft and embarrassingly whiny, and it makes Roger smirk.

Roger reaches for John’s hair, wrapping his hand in the pretty chestnut waves and _pulls._ A wail leaves John’s throat and his cock throbs. Roger’s hand in his hair is just so deliciously painful and he thinks he might come in his pants right there if Roger keeps with this. 

Luckily, he doesn’t. He yanks John’s head to the side and leans down right next to his ear. “What do you want?” he asks, his composure finally beginning to crack.

John’s head swims. The question is so overwhelming now, when all he can think about is how badly he wants to come. _How_ he wants to come never even graced his thoughts. But the feeling of a numb mind, not even sure what he wants or needs, just adds to his arousal and he finds his hips bucking into nothing of their own accord.

John feels Roger’s smirk before he sees it. The older boy lets go of his hair and moves so he’s standing directly in front of John. His presence is strong and powerful, and it makes a shiver roll down John’s spine.

“Is that what you want? To grind against my leg like a naughty schoolboy? To get my pants all wet because you don’t know how to control your bladder?” Roger’s voice is firm and commanding, and he feels a little pleased with himself for managing to keep up this facade for so long.

A broken moan spills from John’s throat, and he nods fervently, like this is the most important thing, like he’ll die if he doesn’t get to come, and Roger wants to give it _all_ to him; wants to make him feel good and take care of him and please him forever.

Roger takes a seat at the foot of the bed, out of range of the puddle on the sheets. He’s going to get wet anyways, but he doesn’t care. He just does it for John, who still isn’t exactly comfortable with Roger being _in the mess._ He gestures to John, who is staring with half-lidded eyes, already looking fucked out, to come straddle his thigh.

John does as Roger asks. Roger grins to himself. _Of course he does as he’s asked._ Roger can’t imagine it another way.

John straddles Roger’s thigh eagerly and immediately drops his head against his shoulder. He seems tired almost, like holding it was just too much, like he’s too worn out by making a mess to hold his own head up, and Roger is once again torn between adoration and arousal. The decision is made for him soon enough as Roger’s cock throbs as he feels the wetness on John’s lap soaking through his own jeans. 

John’s own cock is hard against Roger’s invitingly plush thigh, and the younger boy whimpers in frustration at the confines of his trousers. He wants them off so bad, wants Roger to fuck him like it’s the only thing he’s ever needed, but at the same time, he loves getting off like this; he positively adores the feeling of his wet pants against him as he ruts against Roger’s thigh.

Roger grips John’s hips. John gasps, barely biting back a soft moan when Roger’s fingers dig into the fabric, applying bruising pressure to the skin beneath the denim. Roger guides John by his hips, leading the younger boy to rut against his thigh. John lets him for a moment, reveling in the friction and letting out light, airy moans. It feels so much better than he remembered, just like it always seems to.

Roger loosens his grasp until his hands are just resting gently on John’s hips. John whines softly, but Roger hushes him.

“You can do it yourself, can’t you, sweetheart? Be a good boy for me. You know what to do.” Roger’s voice is gentle but firm, still surprisingly stable, and it makes John whine again, but he nods, his wavy hair tickling Roger’s neck.

“Good boy, there you go,” Roger encourages him as John starts to rut against his thigh without guidance. John is letting out cute little whimpers that sound like they’re almost being punched out of him, and Roger wishes he could see his boyfriend’s face. “Hey. Eyes on me, okay? I wanna see your pretty face.”

John pulls his face away from Roger’s shoulder and looks in the blonde’s eyes. He’s flushed pink, his lips parted and bitten red from earlier. The tips of his ears are red too, which Roger has always found endearing, and the green in his eyes is hardly visible.

“There you go. Look at you, you’re so pretty for me, huh?” He nods as he says it, grinning when John nods along. “Good boy.”

John ruts against Roger’s thigh slowly, letting Roger observe him. He loves it, the feeling of Roger’s eyes on him. He feels so vulnerable like this, so exposed despite all his clothes being on, and he can’t get enough of it. 

The feeling of Roger’s thigh against his cock is incredible. Every time he rolls his hips, pleasure sparks at the base of his spine and rolls up his back until it fogs his head, making him gasp and whine without restriction. It’s high-pitched and desperate and ordinarily John would be humiliated by the noises coming out of his mouth, but now he couldn’t care less. All he can think is _RogerRogerRoger,_ and it makes him a little dizzy.

That’s when Roger opens his mouth again.

“You got so worked up, didn’t you? You always do, huh? You love it so much, wetting yourself just for me. You love to make a mess. You act like you don’t, but you do… Getting our sheets all wet because you just can’t hold it.”

“Fuck,” John gasps. His hips speed up a fraction, heat pooling low in his stomach. He’s _so_ worked up, he’s almost close already, and Roger won’t stop running his mouth.

“You just can’t help it. You try so hard to hold it, don’t you? But you can’t. You just don’t know how to control your bladder at _all._ That’s okay, honey, I know you can’t help it.”

John gasps, rolling his hips harder and faster against his boyfriend’s thigh. “Rog,” he moans.

“It’s not your fault, angel,” Roger continues in his syrupy sweet voice, and John’s eyes squeeze shut. He’s so fucking close, he can feel it building, he’s _so close_ to being pushed over the edge.

“Roger,” John gasps.

“What is it, love? Are you close? Are you going to come in your pants like a teenager because you couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time? Is that it? You should be so embarrassed.”

There it is again, ‘ _you should be so embarrassed’,_ and that’s it.

John moans loud and long as he lets go, coming in his already wet pants. His hips are still moving on their own accord, working him through his orgasm. He can hear Roger praising him through the haze, and finally his hips slow down, jerking a few times before he finally goes still and drops his head onto Roger’s shoulder again.

“Good boy, John, you did _so_ well for me. You’re so good, love you so much, baby,” Roger murmurs. He rubs soothing circles on John’s back, giving him a moment to recover.

John sighs happily as he comes back to his senses. “Thank you,” he says dreamily.

Roger chuckles. “You’re welcome, angel. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“No,” John whines petulantly. “You’re still hard! Lemme suck you off, or somethin’... Please?”

Roger rolls his eyes fondly, a gentle smile crossing his face. It’s so like John to refuse to get cleaned up until he can get Roger off. “Nope. C’mon, we’ll get you in the shower and I’ll change the sheets. If you still wanna, you can suck me off then.”

John’s eyebrows furrow as he pouts, and he huffs. “Fine. But you have to let me use the nice soap.”

Roger sighs affectionately. “I always let you use the nice soap.”

“I know,” John beams, standing up so Roger can do the same. “It’s because I’m so charming and you love me so much.”

Roger stands up and places a gentle peck on John’s lips. “Of course! Come on, last one to the bathroom has to make dinner.” 

John squeals and dashes towards the bathroom, giggling. Roger grins, staying behind for just a moment to strip the sheets off the bed before following after John.

**Author's Note:**

> please feel free to check out my [tumblr](https://peachydeacon.tumblr.com/)! i would love to have you!


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